So Close, And Yet
by djenie
Summary: Sometime after the end of the series. J/S. Together - and yet...


**Just meandering through Jack and Sam's possible thoughts on their relationship. **

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**So Close, and Yet...**

***J***

On some level he's still afraid she'll wake up one day and realize she can do better. So he doesn't crowd her, doesn't talk about forever in the way that lovers do. He's promised her always but that doesn't mean he expects the same from her, because when it comes right down to it, he doesn't believe he deserves it. In too many ways he feels he's not good enough for her. She's so much younger, smarter, more capable. _More innocent..._ She certainly doesn't carry the baggage he does. God if she knew the things he's done in his life... If she knew how many black marks are on his soul...

***S***

_Why haven't we gotten married by now_, she wonders. They've been together—_together,_ together—for almost two years, and sure it's a cliché, but they're not getting any younger. He hasn't brought up the subject of marriage, and she doesn't dare. To tell the truth, she thought it would happen as soon as the chain-of-command problem was solved. But, that was resolved when he was promoted to the Pentagon, three years ago. And still things have not changed.

***J***

It's the difference in their ages that bothers him the most—the feeling that from now on he will age away from her faster and faster. Sixteen years is really enough to say she could be his daughter—a fact that he tries desperately to ignore. He's well past fifty, and she's still in her thirties, still in her prime, these are the best years of her career... and as a woman. And _his_ best years are rapidly falling behind him.

***S***

She thinks he mentions their difference in age _waay_ too often! As if being younger is automatically better. As if she cares about a few gray hairs! As if she's not a grown woman who can make her own choices. He doesn't need to protect her from her comparative youth! Well...maybe some of her choices haven't been the smartest, but she's learned, truly she has, and she knows what she wants!

***J***

He doesn't say he loves her... He knows he'll sound pathetic, and he doesn't want her pity... Well, no, that's not true, sometimes he thinks he'd take even pity if it would guarantee she would stay with him, but he won't do that to her. Because then she'd feel obligated, and he wants her to be free. Free to walk away. Her happiness is the most important thing in the world to him, even if it means she finds it elsewhere. He wants her to stay only if that is what she wants also. But he tries to show her every day in every way possible how much she means to him... and how lost he'd be without her—all that without tying her down.

***S***

She knows she loves him, that she'll never love anyone else like this... Never has. But he's never said the words to her, so she hesitates to speak... what if she drives him away by saying it, makes him feel smothered... His eyes, his kisses, his arms around her all say _I love you_ every time. But the words are never spoken. And she feels the distance he keeps between them by not saying them. She feels it as a barrier, a shield, and she wonders who he is protecting, her or himself... and from what. He gives her everything of himself. Everything except those three small words. Eight little letters. Sometimes she's angry with him for holding back that part of himself, but usually she's angry with herself for putting so much importance on mere words... for being so needy. She has him..._every part of him_, and she knows it. The words would not make that any more true than it already is. And she doesn't want to screw this up...every relationship in her life has gone down the tubes. Even the ones that almost were...but not quite—Martouf, Nareem, Orlin. She always veers away from thoughts of them... Because it's impossible to believe that the failures—and their deaths—were not all her fault. And she fears making the same mistakes with him.

***J***

She's so beautiful and he's so... _ordinary_ is the word he chooses to describe himself. Looking in the mirror all he sees are plain brown eyes with too much pain and sadness hiding behind them, and the stern features of a man who has spent most of his life concealing things. In the mirror he widens his eyes and purses his lips... Daniel looks so clever and cute when he does it... But on Jack it just looks clownish. He gives it up as a bad job and lets his features fall back into their natural appearance... something between worried and severe. He can't think what it is she finds appealing about this face...

***S***

He doesn't know how she sees him, because he doesn't know how he looks when he's looking at her. He doesn't know about the faint smile that curves his lips softly. He has no idea of the way all the hardness and suppressed pain melt away from his expression, and leave only sweetness. The way his eyes kindle with warmth. He's never realized that when he talks to her—or about her—his voice gains extra depth and timbre. Or, that in her presence his entire body appears lighter, more graceful... joyful.

***J***

He loves to watch her face. When she's concentrating, working on a problem, with her lower lip between her teeth... When her eyes drift closed and her features soften as he kisses her... When she's smiling at one of the stupid jokes he tells just to see that very smile...

***S***

The only way he'll ever lose her is if he leaves her. She's promised herself this. She's promised him this. Still she's not sure he believes her.

***J***

He watches her whenever they're together because he's trying to memorize all of her expressions—just in case that's all he has left some day.


End file.
